No Use Crying Over Spilled Tea
by malicious pixie
Summary: FFVII characters reunite and something's eating at Cid and Vincent. Whole lot of bickering going on. Probable YAOI.
1. Tea Time & Stolen Materia

Needed a break from DMC so here's some FFVII characters bickering. May or may not be a Cid/Vin fic. Haven't decided yet. We'll see where the fighting goes.

Chap 1: Tea Time and Stolen Materia.

The 7th Heaven stood before him and Vincent stood before it for well over ten minutes before he'd finally taken enough deep breaths and worked up enough courage to take the plunge and enter the newly reconstructed bar. The moment his heavy boots clunked against the inside floor, he found himself fighting the overwhelming urge to turn tail and flee, but he managed to stay put.

A quick survey of the place and a loud squeal of excitement from a certain energetic ninja as she raced towards him told him that his former teammates were indeed present. He gave a low sigh at the slight disappointment that they were. He had been half-hoping to turn back around and retire once again to the comforting shadows of the Shinra mansion that he'd left a while ago to come to this reunion.

It was a fair trek back to Nibelheim, but one that would be well worth it if only he could return to peace and quiet.

"Vinnie!" Yuffie squealed again and wrapped her arms around the stoic gunman's neck. Vincent took the embrace in stride and unenthusiastically patted the bouncing girl's head before gently prying her arms off of him.

"Hello Yuffie," he said mildly, avoiding the familiar phrase that it was good to see her again. The verdict on whether or not that was true was not out yet.  
Yuffie smiled brightly and grabbed Vincent's hand before happily dragging him towards the rest of his former teammates, leading him as if he couldn't plainly see all of them seated a short ways away.

"Vinnie came!" the young ninja announced loudly and all heads turned to her and the silent gunman. Each person greeted him in turn and Vincent smiled obligingly back at them.  
Cid pushed a chair out beside him, "Have a seat Vin. We've been waiting forever for yer scrawny ass to show up."

"I'm sorry for the delay," the gunman apologized, frowning as he took the proffered seat. "And it's Vincent," he corrected quietly.

"Yeah. Right," Cid grunted, "So you're still uptight about yer name, huh?"

Vincent frowned. "Vincent is my name. Not Vin. Not Vinnie. Not 'Vampy,'" he looked sharply at Barret, "So I do not see why I should be addressed as anything else."

"But ya gotta admit, Vin is shorter."  
"By one syllable. I didn't think two was that much of a strain, even for you, Highwind." Vincent said coldly.  
"Tch. Friend's give each other nicknames, Vin. Get used to it. And yeah," he added quickly, "Even before ya say it, we're all friends, Vin."  
Vincent frowned as everyone readily agreed, some a little more grudgingly than others, like Barret, who was still convinced that the mysterious gunman was going to suck his blood if he let his guard down. Vincent hadn't remembered conceding himself to be anyone's friend; an old teammate, yes; an acquaintance, perhaps. But not exactly a friend. It was still too foreign a concept for him.  
"So what would you like to drink Vincent?" Tifa asked with a smile. "Would you like some tea? Cid brought some of his own over and has been trying to force it down our throats."

"Damn straight," the gruff pilot nodded. "That shit's the best there is. Have half a dozen crates of it at home. You gotta have some Vin."  
Vincent had a different opinion on the matter and dismissed the offer of tea with a wave of his hand. "No thank you. Do you have any coffee?"

"Coffee?" Tifa smiled again, brightly. "Of course we do. How would you like it?"

"Black."

"No cream or sugar?" The fighter asked needlessly, but wanted to double check.

"Take it," Cid nudged the gunman, "You could use some sweetenin'."

Vincent shot him a steely look and then shook his head for Tifa's benefit. "Black," he reaffirmed. "I would like my coffee black. No Cream. No sugar. Thank you."

"Okay," Tifa nodded. "No problem." And she stepped lightly off to the bar.

"Coffee?" Cid queried dubiously. "Ya know that shit's bad for ya."

"Oh yes. And overloading one's liver with alcohol and smoking until fresh air becomes little more than a fantasy, are exceptionally healthy choices."

"Shit," Cid fixed Vincent with a mildly addled look and breathed in a haughty puff of his cigarette before blowing out a haze of smoke in Vincent's direction. He turned back to his steaming beverage. "Just pointing out a fact, Vin."

"So was I," Vincent replied levelly, waving a hand in front of his face to disperse the smoke a little more.  
Tifa arrived with a clean mug and the pot of coffee at the point and poured Vincent a full cup of the dark, steaming liquid, and then returned to put the pot back on the burner. The rest of the table was happy for the short pause in their teammates' arguing but they knew that Cid wasn't through yet as he couldn't' stop glaring at the cup of coffee sitting in front of Vincent.  
Vincent tried to ignore the pilot and enjoy the scent of fresh coffee while he waited for it to cool enough to take the first sip, but Cid seemed hell bent on keeping the focus to him. The blond muttered angrily under his breath about unappreciative teammates and their choice of hot beverages, his sentences interspersed with the usual cussing.

Vincent heaved an exasperated sigh and looked over at him once more.

"Will you be quiet? You act as if you made the tea yourself."

"If I did, would you try it?"

"Not on your life, Highwind."

"At least add some honey to that shit." Cid said, reaching over with the small pitcher of honey.

Vincent stayed his hand by grabbing his wrist with his metal claw. "Highwind, if so much as the aroma of honey hits by coffee, I will not be held responsible for Chaos' actions."

It took a moment to process but Cid got the gunman's meaning. He grunted. "Tch. Crazy bastard. I was just offering."

"And I was just declining."

"Well you don't have to get crabby," Cid continued, yanking his arm back, "Who invited Mr. Sunshine over here anyway?" The blond grumbled into his tea, not addressing anyone in particular.

Tifa took it upon herself to answer as she made her return to the table. "I did," she said, "We haven't seen each other for a while. And I don't want any of us to lose touch after all we've been through."

"Yeah, Gramps," Yuffie bounded over and plopped herself in the seat right beside the disgruntled pilot. "Don't act like you're not happy to see us." She grinned and wrapped her thin arms around the blonde's hulking frame but Cid was smart enough to know that it wasn't intended affection.

"Get off'a me ya brat," he struggled to get out of the embrace, "And give that back!" He reached out for her but wasn't quick enough to snatch her wrist as the feisty ninja hastily backed up and out of the way of his swinging arms.

Yuffie grinned mischievously and stowed away her prize; Cid's stolen materia. "You're losing your touch, old man," she giggled.

"Old man, my ass!" Cid slammed his fist down on the table and his cup of tea shook violently but luckily did not tip over.

"Very mature, Highwind," Vincent commented quietly. Cid shot him a glare but otherwise ignored him.

"Gimme my damn materia back!" He yelled at Yuffie and reached out his hand expectantly, as if she would actually give up the materia. The young ninja shook her head and Cid swiped out at her but missed as she scuttled behind Tifa.

"Uhn uhn. It's mine now," she peeked around the brunette's shoulder. "And besides. You're not even using it. You don't need to. The fighting's stopped, ya know?"

"She's right, Cid," Tifa chimed in, not wanting the little disagreement to escalate, "Let Yuffie have it. Why are you still carting materia around with you anyway?"

"Why the hell not?" Cid voiced gruffly. "It's mine ain't it?"

"Was," Vincent noted quietly.

Cid rounded on him. "You stay out of this. This is between me and the damn brat," he growled. "Nobody asked for your fuckin' comments. And don't think I didn't hear ya before."

Vincent gave him a withering look and simply shrugged. "I'm surprised you can hear anything over that deafening bark of yours. You are wasting your breath and giving me a headache, Highwind. You will not get your materia back, nor do you have any use for it at this time as both Tifa and Yuffie have pointed out. Let the girl have it."

"Yeah!" Yuffie piped up, "Listen to Vinnie! It's mine now." She winked at the stoic, dark-haired man for coming to her aid, though the fact that he had surprised her greatly and everyone else for that matter.

Vincent had hardly uttered a word to any of them in the past and no one had ever dreamed that he would actually engage himself in an argument. The gunman had certainly changed, though no one was sure if it was for the better just yet.

Vincent frowned at the use of the nickname but he had long since given up trying to correct the little ninja. It simply wasn't worth the effort because Yuffie never listened. At least he was not being labeled a vampire.

Cid growled and stood up quickly, bumping the table with his thighs and spilling half his tea onto the table this time. "Shit," he cursed, but otherwise ignored the steaming liquid absorbing into his pants. Yuffie edged her materia stealing self further out of the pilot's reach but the blonde's attention was not on her; instead it was concentrated on the dark-haired gunman.

"What the fuck, Vin? Why you taking her side?"

Vincent raised an eyebrow. "Why do you care?"

Cid leaned a heavy hand on the table and bent his face close to Vincent's, looking as angry as he would be if he caught one of his crew members napping on the job. Vincent failed to be intimidated and met his eye easily.

"There are no more battles, Highwind," he stated matter-of-factly.

"There could be." Cid countered.

"You aren't the type to plan for the future. It is a small loss, Highwind. Give it up."

Yuffie snickered as Cid narrowed his eyes, not saying anything at first. "Battles ain't the point, Vin. That shit's mine and I want it back!"

"So you've been saying, though you are nowhere closer to achieving your goal."

Vincent caught the bubbly ninja's hand as she skirted the table and went for his materia. "Don't' be greedy Yuffie," he said reprovingly and Yuffie grudgingly backed off.

"Fine," she pouted and bounced off to pick pocket one of her other former teammates as they had all made themselves scarce the moment Cid had lurched up from his seat.

"What the hell was all that about?" Cid blazed. "Why do you get to keep your materia and I get mine fucking stolen?"

Vincent shrugged nonchalantly. "Because I am faster than you."

Cid's eyes widened. "Then what the hell was all that shit about not needing materia anymore cuz there ain't no more fucking battles?"

Vincent looked at him in amusement and smirked behind the mantel of his cloak. "Persuasion, Highwind. It convinced you to give up your materia, did it not? And Yuffie is happy and currently out of my hair, therefore I am happy."

"You're a jerk, Vin," Cid said angrily. "I never noticed it until you started talking. But ya are. And I think I liked it better when didn't say squat to nobody."

"If you say so, Highwind," Vincent answered dismissively.

"Goddamn it. I can't even have an argument with ya. You're so damned…damned…ah fuck it. I dunno. But you're a real ass. Ya know that?"

"I do now," Vincent mused.

Cid slammed the table once more and Vincent watched a wave of his coffee fly out of the cup and slosh onto the table. He shook his head and missed Cid's stormy departure, though he heard his parting words.

"….pisses me off to no fucking end that guy..."


	2. Lukewarm Tea

Lukewarm Tea

It was a good ten minutes before anyone felt it was safe to return to Vincent's side of the bar after his fight with Cid, mainly because the pilot would get angry at any former member of Avalanche who tried to avoid listening to his grand harangue. Cid hadn't been ranting about asshole gunmen all the while because he liked the sound of his own voice—or so he had told Barret when the large man had tried to leave after the first 30 seconds of it.

Cid wanted everyone to understand and to agree with him. And in the end it had taken a few shots of whiskey in the middle of the day to somewhat placate the gruff pilot, not that Barret wasn't happy to join him for a few rounds.

Vincent could only scowl at the pilot's display. He was a grown man, not a child. He was too old to be sulking about nothing. Even Marlene knew how to behave. It was just too sad for words.

Vincent had been watching Cid and idly drawing things with spilled coffee when the first brave soul escaped from under the pilot's nose. He was slightly shocked to see that it was Cloud because, although the blond was their former leader, Cloud had also never been one to sit around and shoot the breeze with his teammates.

Vincent wasn't complaining however, at least it wasn't Yuffie or Barret…or Cid for that matter.

Without waiting for the go-ahead, Cloud plunked himself in the seat across from the gunman and set his own cup down. Vincent momentarily narrowed his eyes at it and snorted.

"Coffee?" he inquired incredulously and Cloud nodded.

"Yeah. Don't tell Cid though," the blond grinned mildly, "Wouldn't want to be on his bad side like you."

Vincent snorted and shook his head, a light smirk on his slips. "At least you would have company. And it's slightly more peaceful on this side. I get ranted about and not AT."

Cloud gave a low chuckle. "I guess." He took a small sip of his coffee and proceeded to stare at the table after putting his mug down.

Vincent took the silence as an opportunity to finish his own cup of coffee before it cooled too much. He looked at Cloud expectantly after, assuming a conversation would begin but Cloud's attention remained transfixed to the cup and he said nothing.

Vincent cleared his throat. "So..." he paused, never having been very conversational. Cloud looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah?"

"Well..." Vincent drifted off again, chewing his lip thoughtfully and cursing his inability to think of something to say. The silence had been much easier. But now he had to continue speaking since he had already begun. "Are you…and Tifa living together?" He finished quickly, feeling stupid for asking the question and for his initial hesitation as he thought up something to ask.

Cloud blinked and looked back down at the nothing he found to be so interesting on the table. "Mm-yeah." It was a half mumble, but still decipherable. "Upstairs. Remember?"

"Oh," Vincent nodded, "Right." He remembered. Cloud was the delivery boy. "So you do not actually live…_with_ her…" He hoped that he was not being too vague, or that the question was too personal.

He assumed the latter when Cloud relapsed into silence.

"How is business going then?"

"…fine. We get a decent amount of business. I'm usually always out."

"I see," Vincent nodded thoughtfully and then looked seriously at the grave blond sitting before him. "Is there something wrong, Cloud?" He couldn't help wondering aloud, though he hoped that he wouldn't have to offer comfort. He had never been good with empathy either.

Cloud shook his head and looked up, meeting Vincent's eye. The gunman could see pain there and he wondered if Cloud knew how visible it was. He also wondered if any of the others had noticed it--If _Tifa_ had noticed it.

They probably had. Cloud wasn't very good at hiding his emotions.

"I'm fine," the blond mumbled quietly. "Just fine. And you?"

Vincent raised a questioning eyebrow at him but it went unnoticed as Cloud had looked away again, though this time his eyes were trained across the restaurant.

Vincent let the silence stand for a suitable amount of time before he decided to draw Cloud's attention back to him.  
"You don't have to tell me what is wrong, Cloud," he said. "I don't expect anyone to open up to me, but you don't have to lie. I know something is wrong. You can simply say it and go no further. It's your business."  
After a shorter pause than expected, Cloud spoke. "It's Tifa," he said quietly.  
"What?" Vincent was startled by the sudden confession, though the actual words were not a surprise. He had assumed that Tifa was involved, though she may or may not have been at the heart of the problem.  
Cloud looked at his dark-haired teammate and this time did not seem like he was going to avert his gaze again. "Tifa," he said again.  
Vincent nodded. "What about her?"

"You know how she is." Cloud's voice took on a more solemn note and Vincent nodded. He knew very well how the brunette was around him.

"She just doesn't get it. And I'm tired of wasting my breath trying to make her see. It's not worth the effort."  
"You could always leave for a while."  
"She'd find me," Cloud muttered despairingly.  
"You don't know that. I bet she would understand that you need some time away."  
Cloud raised a skeptical eyebrow at the gunman and Vincent sighed his concession. "You're right," He agreed solemnly. "Perhaps not right away, but she wants you to be happy. That much is blatantly obvious."

Cloud shrugged.

"She is your friend and she cares about you deeply, Cloud." Vincent started in again. "She isn't a mad stalker and she wouldn't hunt you down if you ever left. She just wants to know that you are ok."

"But—" Cloud began, but Vincent interrupted him.

"But you're not ok, are you Cloud? And it isn't Tifa who is making you feel this way."

Cloud's hands tightened around his cup. Vincent was getting close to the truth, he could tell. "You have been ok since Me—"

"What's going on with you and Cid," Cloud asked, changing the focus of the conversation abruptly. "Why are you guys fighting all of a sudden and why are you suddenly talking to people?"

"…Cid is loud and annoying and I have changed." It was a simple answer.

"What made you change?"

"Time? It was inevitable."

Cloud sighed. " I could always kill her."

Vincent blinked. He was having trouble following the conversation now that it was taking such sharp turns. It took him a while to realize that he should be aghast at Cloud's statement and stared at him with widened eyes.

Cloud chuckled half-heartedly. "...or not. I was just kidding."

Vincent wasn't so sure. He frowned. "It is an option. But one which I do not advise you to explore."

"I can't take it anymore," Cloud admitted suddenly. "I thought I'd gotten over hi…IT after two years," Vincent raised an eyebrow at the slip. "And then Geostigma happened and he... and I kept thinking it would get better," Cloud sighed. "I thought that given enough time I would get used to…the way she is around me. How she feels about me...but I haven't. And I don't think I can."

Vincent knew that Tifa wasn't actually who Cloud had wanted to talk about. The slips made that clear enough, but he wasn't going to push the issue.

"As I said, she is your friend," Vincent repeated himself. "She will never stop caring about you and you can't expect her to. You should be happy to have someone as caring as Tifa to love you, even if you only want her as a friend."

"Sometimes you need a break from friends too," Cloud said quietly. "You can understand that. That's why you keep leaving when the trouble ends. You come and help and then you take off."

"I do," Vincent nodded. "And I can understand your feelings. So what do you plan to do about your situation?" he asked.

"Nothing...I don't' know what to do."

"You need to get away."

Cloud shook his head and stared intensely at the table. Vincent had thought he'd gone quiet on him again and so he had nearly missed the whispered statement " No…I need _him_…"

"The hell are ya doing now?" Cid thumped back over to Vincent's table and glared at him. "Makin' Spike cry?"

It was apparent that the pilot had consumed a few more shots while the gunman and Cloud had been talking. And Avalanche's leader did not seem pleased that his misery was so evident, especially to a drunk. Vincent watched Cloud shrug away from the mitt of a hand that landed on his shoulder as he got up to take his leave.

Vincent scowled at Cid as Cloud disappeared and he wrinkled his nose as he got a whiff of what the pilot had been drinking. Cid burped and he grimaced, turning his face away.

"Did you vomit in your mouth, Highwind?" The gunman asked in disgust.

Cid growled. "Why'r ya being such a goddamn bastard today, Vin?" he sat down heavily beside him and took over the tabletop with his elbows. "We ain't seen ya for months since that Geo…whatever shit happened and then ya come back and piss everyone off."

Vincent scowled and shifted his seat a little to the left. "You are the only one getting angry, Highwind."

"What about the kid? I saw his face. Looked like he was going to cry."

"We were just talking."

"Shit. Like fuck I believe that. What'd ya say ta him?"

"Nothing that concerns you. If you needed to know, we would have included you in the conversation."

"Don't be a bitch Vin. What were you guys talkin' about?"

Vincent stood. "If Cloud wants you to know, then he'll hold a general meeting. Tell Tifa I went for a walk if she asks." And with that, the gunman strode to the door and left the bar.

Cid hiccupped as the door swung closed. "…to no fucking end…"

_(A/N) Sorry Busta, i forgot to mention the cookie. Next chapter. I promise..but you'll hafta remind me._


	3. Cold Tea

COOKIE! There you have it Busta…I still couldn't work it in….but I'll try to give it an appearance at some point.

Thanks to those who read this crap. Keep it up. And enjoy the next chapter.

Cold Tea

The air was cooling as he walked and Vincent knew that it would be a chilly night, not that the cold bothered him in the least. He'd spent a short eternity lying in the Shinra basement and his joints never ached. The cold wouldn't get to him, or any other element. He'd been modified that way.

It was as shame that it wasn't true for emotion. Vincent hadn't found himself lying in a coffin in the Shinra mansion because he was testing to see whether or not he could become claustrophobic—which he had somewhat. He had hurt, been hurt, and had wanted to atone.

Now he had hurt someone again. Admittedly, angering the great Cid Highwind was not the end of the world, nor was it particularly hard to do, but Vincent still felt guilty for ruining the mood of the afternoon.

Tifa had wanted a happy reunion. Vincent had given her mild chaos. So perhaps it was the brunette who he felt he had most wronged.

And then there had been Cloud, the melancholy ex-SOLDIER. Vincent felt slightly at fault for further depressing the blond, but he felt, and hoped, that his words had done some measure of good. Perhaps they had at least gotten him thinking in the proper direction, whatever that happened to be.

Yuffie was fine. Vincent was sure. She wasn't fazed by much unless it involved someone taking her own ill-gotten materia. Barret too was most likely okay. In fact he was probably happier now that Vincent had left the bar for a time. Nanaki had only lifted his head once from under the table when Vincent had initially arrived, so he was probably not too bothered by what had gone on. At least he hadn't been stepped on as the whole of Avalanche had relocated during his and Cid's little spat.

All in all, his former teammates were probably fine but Vincent still felt completely responsible for the sudden sour afternoon. And although he decided that he shouldn't really care, he felt most sorry about wiping the happy smile of Cid's face.

Cid had been smiling and smoking jovially until Vincent had opened his mouth. And once the gunman actually thought about it, Cid had really done nothing wrong. Vincent had been uncharacteristically hostile towards him for no solid reason. And he never thought it would all have stemmed from the simple offer of a cup of tea.

Tea Cid had brought to share. Tea he had declined instantly. Tea Cid would have been more than happy to make for him, if only it would get him to try it.

Why couldn't he have just sat and had a cup of tea?

Because he didn't want one.

Because Cid had wanted him to have it.

Why was that the problem?

Vincent couldn't understand. He didn't think that he actually hated the gruff pilot. He simply got annoyed with him. And he was given plenty reasons to.

Cid was loud and stubborn as a mule, not that Vincent wasn't, but he was at least calm about his hard headedness. It was also far too easy to ruffle the blond pilot's feathers and when wronged, Cid made sure that the offender knew it. Both the offender and the rest of the planet.

He was confrontational, strong willed and passionate, especially about anything involving aviation. His planes were his babies and nobody said a cross word about them, or chipped the paint without getting an earful and a fat lip. Hurt or insult the flying scrap metal and you were dead, no questions asked.

Deep down Vincent envied Cid for his passion. The dark-haired gunman could hardly remember a time when he had something that he felt so strongly about that he'd be willing to kill for it. Of course there was the time when they were saving the planet from the likes of the insane general Sephiroth. Vincent had wanted more than vengeance when he had joined. He wanted to see the mad scientist suffer as he had made both him and his former love suffer. However once Hojo had been eliminated from the picture, Vincent's goal, though fleeting, was also gone.

And Geostigma had not lasted long enough for him to really care about it. Nor had it made him feel even remotely like a hero again. So he still had no real purpose…and no one to really care about him.

Maybe he was like Cloud. Maybe he was still chasing a ghost.

Vincent did not envy Cloud in the least. Vincent was alone and would remain as such because he knew that nobody wanted him and he'd accepted that. Cloud on the other hand had someone who desperately wanted him, but he could not return her feelings because he couldn't let go and still wanted a dream.

Not to mention the fact that the blond had been teased by the second rising of Sephiroth during Geostigma. Cloud had had to kill the man he loved for a second time, two years after Meteor and perhaps just when he was beginning to accept the fact that his idol was gone.

Cloud's situation was proof that life was incredibly unfair.

Vincent didn't like to see his former leader floundering. Out of any of his supposed friends, Cloud was the one he could relate to most. Cloud had been a toy, just as he had been, and they had both been deeply scarred and wounded by Shinra in the past.

They both had lost someone that they loved and they both had to come to terms with that. Vincent could gratefully say that he was more or less there. Lucrecia was more or less behind him. Cloud couldn't take the plunge and Vincent wasn't surprised. It was no wonder Cloud couldn't' leave Sephiroth at the bottom of a crater, because the silver-haired General had somehow found his way back out.

Sephiroth haunted Cloud more than the memories of Lucrecia had haunted him. And the General himself had said that he refused to be a memory.

For Cloud he was the star of a perpetual nightmare.

Vincent didn't envy him. He pitied him.

"Back already?"

Vincent jumped a little, not having realized that he'd made a full circle and had arrived back at the bar. He faced the source of the familiar gravelly voice and nodded.

"It would appear thus."

Cid snorted. "Looks like you're still bein' bitchy. Why don't ya take a few more laps? Don't think the air's cooled ya off yet."

Vincent scowled behind his mantel. "Why are you smoking outside Highwind? Did you finally realize you were a health hazard?"

"Nah," Cid waved a hand, grumbling, " The kid're back and they're bein' too noisy. Wanted some peace 'n quiet."

Cid, finding a place too noisy? Vincent almost laughed. "I see. I thought for a moment that you'd grown a conscience, Highwind."

"Dammit Vin!" Cid dropped his cigarette and stomped on it as he pushed off the wall he'd been leaning on. "The fuck is wrong with you today?" he asked loudly, stepping up to the gunman. "You're damn pretty, but I still figured you were a goddamn guy. You shouldn't be PMSin' on me like this."

Vincent flushed. Did Cid say he was pretty?

"What?" Cid growled. "All of a sudden you got nothin' to say? You clam up the second someone gets up in your face?"

Vincent turned his face away and Cid grabbed his cloak. "Look at me for fuck's sake!" he yelled, yanking Vincent down to his eye level. "Tell me why you hate me so much!"

_Hate you?_ Vincent stared at him. And then he stared some more before trying his hand at blinking.

Cid's brow furrowed and his anger somewhat subsided. "Vin?" he asked a little more quietly, which resulted in his usual loud-ish pitch.

The dark-haired gunman still couldn't find words. He was more concerned by the close proximity of Cid's face. He could smell the cigarettes on his breath and somehow the scent wasn't quite as revolting as he normally found it. And that thought itself revolted him. He closed his eyes.

"Vin?" Cid tried to get him to open them, speaking a little softer, but Vincent jerked away so quickly and violently that his cloak was ripped from his shoulders and Cid was left holding it. The gunman didn't stick around long enough to see Cid's slack jaw and absolutely stunned face as he gripped the red piece of cloth in his hand.

Vincent's back was already turned and he was running.


	4. Burnt Scones

I was tired so I didn't proof read. Hope this makes sense. And sorry for the delayed update.

Burnt Scones

The whole of Avalanche tumbled out of the 7th Heaven once they'd heard the commotion outside, Yuffie and Tifa leading the fray and a dismal Cloud bringing up the rear, a change in position from their Sephiroth hunting days. Cid glanced at them for barely a second before his eyes went back to the empty street up ahead. He knew that whoever spoke first would ask him what had happened and he honestly didn't know what to tell them. It was hard to offer an explanation when you didn't' know for yourself what had gone on.

All he knew were a few things: One was that Vincent had taken off suddenly, and two was that he'd left his cloak behind.

Cid tried to replay the scene in his head. He had greeted Vincent. Vincent had bitched at him. They had fought. Vincent wouldn't look at him. Cid had forced him to. Vincent had freaked out. Vincent had taken off. Cid was left holding his cloak.

Had it been his face? Was Cid so grotesque that an up-close view of the pilot had been too much for a full grown man to handle? Cid was aware that he wasn't the prettiest face out there. Hell, when compared to Vincent or Cloud, Cid possessed a face to scare small children, but the blond still didn't like to think of himself as ugly and Vincent had seen him a hundred times before, and not just at a distance. He hadn't turned tail before now.

So maybe it was his breath. But even the scent of cigarettes or general bad breath shouldn't have caused Vincent to run for the hills. It was a little extreme of a reaction if it had been his breath.

Cid decided he was going to punch Vincent in his pretty face if that turned out to be the case.

"Where's Vincent?" Tifa was the first to speak from his assembled group of friends.

The pilot shook his head. Apart from knowing the direction in which Vincent had run, he had absolutely no clue where the gunman had gone.

"Yo, where da fuck is Vampy?"

Apparently a head shake wasn't enough for Barret. All eyes turned to the large man and Barret seemed to decide then that silence suited him better, reason being that no one looked too happy that he'd reiterated Tifa's question. The brunette fighter was the last to turn her frown away from him.

Cloud was the only one who appeared not to care what Barret had said. He stared at the cloak in Cid's hand. "That's Vincent's," he stated, and his unspoken question was 'Why do you have it?'

Cid dropped his gaze to the tattered cloth. "Er—Yeah…I was holdin' it and Vin suddenly took off," he started to explain.

"Why did he get you to hold it?" Tifa inquired, very curious since the gunman rarely ever took off his cloak, let alone in front of anybody.

"He didn't," said the pilot, "I kinda got pissed at him and I grabbed it. Vin freaked out on me and the thing kinda ripped off him when he ran."

"Why were you being mean to Vinnie?" Yuffie joined in with an angry pout, her fists on her hips.

Cid held up his hands in surrender, the cloak hanging from one fist. "Hey, I didn't do shit, Kid. Vin just flipped out for no reason."

"You grabbed him," Yuffie pointed out, gesturing with a wave of her hand.

"Yeah, but that ain't no reason to run," said the gruff blond. "He could have at least punched me or pulled a gun on me or something."

"I'd a fuckin' busted a cap in your ass," Barret pointed out.

All chose to ignore him this time.

"Maybe you should tell us exactly what happened," Tifa suggested calmly, "But maybe we could go inside first? It's a little chilly out here" She rubbed her arms to prove the point and most of the group nodded.

Cid watched them and let out a long sigh. "...yeah. Ok."

Everyone turned to go inside except Cloud. Tifa frowned softly at him.

"Aren't you coming, Cloud?"

The blond shook his head. "I'm gonna try and find Vincent."

Cid stopped just before entering the bar and tossed Vincent's cloak to him. "Here, Kid. He'll probably want it back."

Tifa continued to frown as the ex-SOLDIER caught the garment. "Please be safe Cloud," she said with audible concern.

The blond sighed. "Don't worry about me Tifa." And he meant it.

Without so much as another glance at any of them, the ex-SOLDIER walked off, leaving a slightly hurt looking Tifa and a scowling Cid.

"Kid's been spending too much time around Vin," the blond pilot muttered. "C'mon Tif, it's still cold out here."

The brunette nodded slowly and walked back into the bar. Even if Cloud didn't' want her to worry, she was going to. It just wasn't in her to stop.

"So what happened?" Yuffie jumpstarted the interrogation the moment Cid had stepped foot into the bar.

Cid grumbled and flopped into a seat when he got to a table. "Need some tea, Tif. Can you make it for me?"

Tifa walked over to the bar without saying a word. He took her reaction as a _yes_. He felt bad about asking her to make him some tea, but he knew that Yuffie wouldn't have allowed him a moment of peace so he could do it himself, and maybe Tifa could probably use the slight distraction.

Sometimes he felt Cloud was a little ungrateful. He shouldn't disregard Tifa's feelings so easily.

"Well?" the little ninja asked impatiently, getting right up in Cid's face. "What happened with you and Vinnie?"

Cid leaned back as far as he could in his chair to have a little breathing room. "Dammit, can't I sit for five minutes with out ya startin' in on me?" He pulled out a cigarette and stuck it in his mouth, but did not light it. It was the last in the pack so he'd have to smoke it when he had a little privacy so he could truly savour it—Because it couldn't be the fact that he suddenly thought of himself as a health hazard…

"Come on!" Yuffie whined. "You're supposed to tell us what happened."

"I would like to know what happened," Nanaki said quietly from under the table. It took Cid a moment to realize that it wasn't actually the table that was talking to him. He peered under at the fire cat, nodded, sitting up straight again.

"Look, there ain't much else to say," he began, watching Tifa out of the corner of his eye, hoping his tea would be ready soon so he'd have something to calm him since smoking wasn't an option right then.

"I was smokin' outside and Vin came back," he continued. "All I said was 'back already?' and Vin answered me all bitchy. So then I tell him to do a few more laps to cool off. He insults me. I ask him why he's bein' a jerk. Then he won't look at me so I grab him and the next thing I know he's running down the street and I got his cape thing in my hand."

The scrape of claws was heard as Nanaki crawled out from under the table and sat beside Cid's chair. "That is all that was said? What were your exact words to him?"

Cid scratched his head and frowned, pulling the cigarette from his mouth as Tifa brought over his tea. He took a small sip, thankful for the soothing quality of the hot liquid. "Shit, I don't know," he answered. "How the hell am I supposed to remember exactly what I said?"

Nanaki snorted, his equivalent of a sigh. "You only called Vincent a jerk?"

"Er…" Cid thought a moment and then looked at the fire cat, "Well I did tell him he was pretty but he shouldn't be PMSin' like a girl."

Yuffie grunted angrily and narrowed her eyes. "See, you did hurt Vinnie's feelings!"

"Perhaps," Nanaki tilted his head, thinking. "But I doubt that that is the reason why Vincent fled. He would not be so hurt by such a remark."

"You don't know that," Yuffie pouted. "Vinnie's sensitive."

"How was Vincent acting before you grabbed him?" Tifa asked quietly, taking a seat, her own cup of tea in front of her.

Cid watched her for a moment before shrugging. "Like I said, he wouldn't look at me. Soon as I made the PMS comment."

"You mean as soon as you hurt his feelings." Yuffie shook her fist and Tifa sighed and shook her head at the younger girl.

"Please just let Cid explain, Yuffie," she asked softly.

The little ninja quieted and sat down moodily, folding her arms as she frowned across at the pilot.

"Vincent was embarrassed by your comment," Nanaki continued the questioning, "And then you grabbed his cloak?"

Cid nodded but then quickly shook his head. "Well first I think I asked him why he wouldn't look at me and then I asked him why he hates me so much, cuz he keeps acting like such a jerk to me."

Nanaki took in that bit of information but said nothing about what he thought. "And that is all?"

"Yeah," Cid confirmed, "That's it."

Nanaki nodded. "From what you have told us, Vincent's actions are most peculiar, but I do not wish to hazard a guess as to why he rushed off. I think it is far better to hear from both sides. So I suppose that this little event will have to remain a mystery until we hear from Cloud, if he is successful in gaining any information from Vincent, or if we hear from Vincent himself."

Tifa nodded. "Yes, I agree…And maybe it's time for all of us to go to bed. It's been…kind of a busy day," she said softly.

"Right!" Yuffie jumped up immediately and skirted the table to get to Cid's other side. She wagged her finger at him as if he were an unruly child. "Vinnie better come back," she warned him, "Or else…" And the threat was left at that as she bounded up the stairs, Nanaki padding off behind her after a quick parting nod at the rest of the group.

The remaining members of Avalanche stood and stretched out tired muscles. There weren't many rooms upstairs from the bar, but to make it like old times, they'd decided to make do with the current accommodations and share what few rooms there were. It had been a while since any of them had been squished like sardines in a can while they tried to sleep, and surprisingly they were all kind of excited by the nostalgia—not that they would make it a regular habit of pairing up in small rooms. They all loved their space, but one night of being cramped and not having privacy wouldn't kill them.

As one by one they said their goodnights and filed upstairs, Cid was left alone in the bar, sitting at the table as he finished off his tea. Once his cup was empty he headed outside to do away with his last smoke.

He told himself he wanted a little fresh air, but what he really wanted was to try and catch a glimpse of Vincent. He wanted to know if the gunman was ok.

Cid saw nothing as he smoked and he grumbled when the burning embers of his cigarette hit the filter and he couldn't smoke it anymore. He flicked the butt of his cigarette away and gave the street and surrounding area one more cursory glance. He still couldn't see a trace of Vincent and he shook his head, cursing.  
"…no fucking end…"

The door closed behind him as he reentered the bar and went off to bed, hoping Vincent and Cloud would be back by morning...but mainly Vincent.


	5. Broken China

Broken China

It didn't take long for Cloud to find Vincent. All he had to do was scan the roof tops, looking for a crouching shape that wasn't quite a gargoyle. Admittedly it would have been easier to find the gunman had he been wearing his cloak, but at least his golden armor reflected enough of the moon's light that it gave away his position.

Cloud climbed up the scaffolding to where the dark-haired man was squatting. Vincent never looked up as he approached. He knew that Vincent had seen him coming a long way off. And even if they'd both been on the ground and Cloud's footsteps barely sounded, if Vincent's back had been turned, it would have made little difference. They were both engineered to hear a pin drop.

"You were not who I expected would come," Vincent said as Cloud moved to stand beside him.

"Cid," the blond answered simply and Vincent nodded, turning his head to regard him for a minute or so before looking away.

"I am glad for it. I did not want to see him."

Cloud nodded and let a short silence form after that. He figured Vincent would want it. The ex-Turk could talk when he was ready.

"You want to know what happened." Vincent said after a while.

"Yeah, I do." Cloud answered calmly. "Why did you run?"

Vincent glanced at him. "Are you asking for you, or are you asking for them?" _Them_ being the rest of the team, Cloud reckoned.

"Does it matter which it is?" he asked.

Vincent nodded. "I would be willing to say more if it was only for your ears."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Because I can speak to you without feeling as though I am being judged or pitied. I don't fear that my words will guilt you into helping me when I do not ask for your aid. And you listen quietly and understand a person's need for space and occasional silence. In short you are easy to talk to."

Cloud smiled a little. "I guess that's me. So are you going to tell me what happened?"

"There is that possibility. Will you tell the others?"

"Only what you want me to."

"Good," Vincent nodded. "What has Cid already told you?"

"Nothing really," said Cloud. "Just that you freaked out after he grabbed you and you took off. What did he say to you?"

"Nothing worth repeating." Vincent answered.

Cloud frowned a little. "But it was worth running away because of it, right?"

Vincent sighed. "I did not like his cursing."

"No one really does, Vincent. But it's who Cid is. You can't change him and I know that's not the reason you took off. Everyone's used to his mouth by now, including you."

Vincent stiffened and lifted a hand to scratch his forehead. For some reason Cloud knew that the action was meant to hide the gunman's face. Something in the blonde's last sentence had triggered a bad memory.

"What's wrong Vincent?" he pushed, "Tell me. Did Cid do something?"

"You are sounding a little like Tifa, Cloud." Vincent muttered, continuing to hide his face. Cloud took pity on him and offered him his cloak.

"Sorry, but you're being evasive. Here," he said, "Cid figured you'd want it back."

Vincent reached out a hand and accepted the bundled cloth silently, but gratefully, and put it on. His relief at not being so exposed to the world was instantaneous. It made Cloud wish he had his own cloak to help him hide his emotions. He knew that he was terrible at masks. He knew that his face showed everything. If Barret could tell when something was wrong, then there was a problem.

"You can sit if you would like," Vincent told Cloud softly, and the blond obeyed, hoping that it was a sign that Vincent was going to begin answering his questions properly.

"So…You and Cid…" Cloud decided to start him off and Vincent took his time answering.

"I needed to get away from him," he said, "That is all."

"That's all? You were on a walk for over an hour to get away from him. That wasn't enough time too cool off?"

"…Apparently not."

"According to Cid you didn't just leave, you ran. He was bothering you that much?"

"…yes."

"Because he was loud?"

"Because…he was too close."

"Why didn't you tell him to back off then?"

"I did not think he would listen."

"So you jerked away and he ended up holding your cloak."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you snatch it back?"

"I just needed to get away quickly."

"You were scared of something." Cloud wasn't asking a question, he was making a statement.

Vincent frowned. "What do you think happened, Cloud?"

The blond stared at him intently. "Did he try to kiss you?" Vincent's face reddened in embarrassment. Cloud pushed on. "Did he grab you to try and kiss you, Vincent?"

Vincent said nothing and Cloud took his assumption to be the truth. He hadn't thought that Cid swung that way, it had been a wild guess, but maybe he'd been wrong about the pilot all this time. Now he thought he understood why Cid couldn't tell the rest of the team what had happened, and he wondered if he was still acting clueless to the others right then.

"That's not exactly it." Vincent mumbled softly. "Cid…didn't try to kiss me."

"Oh?" Cloud's brow furrowed. So he was wrong. "What happened then?"

Vincent swallowed and stared at the ground below. "He did not try to kiss me but…I wanted him to." Vincent said the words so softly that Cloud almost missed them, and though the statement was uttered in a quiet tone, he was no less shocked.

"You what?" the blond asked, needing to hear that bit of information said again.

Vincent closed his eyes and sighed. "Please don't make me repeat myself, Cloud. I think you heard me."

"But this is Cid we're talking about," Cloud tried to understand. "Loud Cid. Cid the gruff pilot you've been having it out with since we all met up this—Oh!" Cloud blinked. So that was it. Vincent had been fighting unbidden feelings all this time and had therefore taken out his frustration on the cause of his confusion. "So that's why you and Cid have been fighting," he said, sounding slightly astounded by the revelation.

"No," Vincent shook his head. "At least I do not think that these incidents are related. I still find Cid loud and obnoxious. That is why we fought."

"Maybe. But there's also the chance that you were fighting your feelings without realizing it. They do say that there's a find line between Love and Ha-"

"Don't say it Cloud," Vincent interrupted him harshly. "I do not _like_ or _Love_ Highwind. It was just…just a moment of insanity."

"But-"

"I am simply deprived, Cloud," Vincent scowled. "Do you know how long it has been since…" he struggled for a way to explain it without it being too embarrassing, "Since I have…_connected_ with anyone?"

Cloud wanted to laugh at his choice of words, but refrained. He knew that the matter was far too important to Vincent. He would not appreciate being laughed at and Cloud didn't want to be the one to make him retreat back into himself. It was nice to hear the gunman finally talking. And Cloud was secretly proud to be the one Vincent felt he could confide his feelings to.

It was safer for the gunman to choose Cloud anyway. The only others who listen would be the girls and they were prone to gossip, even Tifa. Girls followed different rules when it came to secrets, Cloud knew. They wouldn't tell the whole world personally what your secret was, but it was guaranteed that they would tell at least one of their friends and that friend would tell another and the cycle would continue from there until the whole planet knew that you'd peed in your neighbours' swimming pool when you were eight, or whatever other secret you had been silly enough to share.

Cloud coughed. "A long time," he guessed.

"That would be an understatement, Cloud," Vincent replied dismally.

The blond stared at the gunman long and hard. He wasn't sure if he completely bought Vincent's excuse. He decided to test it.

"Why are you staring at me that way, Cloud?" Vincent had barely gotten the question out before Cloud grabbed his cloak and yanked him closer. Face to face, Cloud hoped that there was something reminiscent about this and the gunman's altercation with Cid.

Vincent's eyes widened and he put his hand over Cloud's. "Wh-what are you doing?"

Cloud pulled down the edge of Vincent's cloak with his finger so that the dark-haired man's mouth was more visible. He leaned closer.

Was Vincent deprived or was it just an excuse? He was going to find out.

Cloud made to close the distance between them but the gunman turned his head and craned his neck back.

"Cloud, do not toy with me." Vincent said in a slightly wounded voice.

The blond blinked and let him go. "I'm not toying," he explained, "I'm trying to help."

Vincent frowned and stood, straightening out his cloak. He looked more hurt than Cloud would have expected him to. "So I was wrong. You are just like the others," he said sadly.

"No Vincent, I-"

"Goodnight Cloud."

The gunman leapt down from the scaffolding and landed gracefully on the ground below. He proceeded to walk off and Cloud decided not to follow him. He wondered if Vincent would go home or head back to the 7th Heaven. In any case, Cloud figured he should head back to the bar. He would just have to wait and see which choice Vincent made. And at least he now knew what had gone on between Vincent and Cid, though what he would keep to himself and what he would tell the others would be decided later.

Cloud wondered if there was a way of stopping _later_ from happening at all.


	6. Steeping

Steeping

Vincent did end up going back to the 7th Heaven but he waited until Cloud had arrived there first, and awarded him plenty of time to go upstairs to bed. He very much hoped that Cloud would do just that. In fact, he hoped that everyone had retired for the night because he was in no mood to explain anything to anybody. He especially didn't want to have another heart to heart with Cloud, nor did he want to hear an apology. He had no desire to be yelled at, cursed at, or manhandled by Cid again. And just to make sure that none of that happened, Vincent was planning on avoiding every fair haired person in their party until he left for home the next day.

He wasn't quite sure who he most feared a confrontation with, Cloud or Cid. Cid would be loud and pushy, but Cloud was the one making assumptions that Vincent began to worry were true. He was also the one who knew of Vincent's random desire for Cid Highwind. And Cloud had tried to kiss him.

But on the other hand, Cid would be looking for an excuse as to why Vincent had suddenly taken off on him, and the gunman had yet to think of one. His behaviour had been so unusual and therefore Vincent knew a weak excuse would not wash with the pilot. It wouldn't work with any of the team. And there was no way that Vincent would reveal the truth to them in a million years.

Realizing that, Vincent began to panic. Tomorrow morning he would be interrogated and he had to come up with a decent, acceptable lie. He wondered if he'd even have an epiphany before judgment day. Suddenly running home to Nibelheim seemed like a very good idea, cowardly, but a very good idea indeed. And Vincent thought he was rather good at running away by now.

He pushed the door to the bar open slowly and peeked inside to make sure the front room was empty. Relieved that it was, he entered and locked the door behind him, figuring that Tifa would expect it and appreciate him doing so. Looking around, he noticed two tea cups on one of the tables, one looked to be still untouched. Apparently Avalanche had held a meeting to discuss Vincent's behaviour, or so he assumed. There was no way to be certain, but he figured it was a fair bet that Cid had wanted some tea as he spun a tale.

Vincent wondered what the pilot had told everyone. He wondered what Cid thought happened.

The gunman's eyes suddenly widened. What if Cid guessed? What if Cid was observant enough to figure out what Vincent had wanted? The thought was somewhat laughable, but still plausible. Vincent really had no idea how the pilot's mind actually worked. Maybe he was a lot more astute than anyone gave him credit for. But then again, Vincent was probably just being paranoid. If Cid's usual behaviour was any indication of the inner workings of his mind, then the pilot's thoughts rotated around three things only; planes, feminine curves, and tea.

_Feminine curves_. Vincent mused on that. Not _male_. What if Cid ever found out what Vincent had wanted? Would he react violently or just laugh right in his face? Would he be silently indignant and stomp off? Or would be confrontational and actively mock him? Frankly, Vincent didn't like any of those scenarios. Cid was all for the ladies, or so his plane, the Highwind, advertised by its large decal of a woman in silhouette. There was no way Cid would take kindly to a man wanting to kiss him. Vincent was very glad that his instincts had told him to flee instead of fight, or kiss as the case had been.

Unfortunately that didn't help him get over the fact that he wanted a man, let alone a man like Cid Highwind. Something was seriously wrong with him. Maybe all the chaos with Meteor and Geostigma had finally gotten the better of him and killed off some brain cells. It was the only explanation Vincent was willing to accept at this point, because pairing himself up with Cid was like…mating a beauty queen with…Bahamut. It just didn't paint a pretty picture.

Vincent sighed. But maybe he was being a little hard on the pilot. Cid wasn't all that bad, he supposed; not a monster at least. He was just…Cid. And he wasn't honestly an ugly man. If you were ever able to get past the personality and take a good look at him, you'd see that. Cid had nice sky blue eyes, a muscular body, and decent blond hair. He wasn't all that tall, but he wasn't short either. His large personality seemed to make up for the fact that he was only average height. Vincent just wished the pilot could go one full sentence without swearing. And the chain smoking wasn't much of a turn-on either.

If there had to be a man for him, why did it have to be Cid Highwind? There were better, quieter men out there. Like Cloud for instance, another blond, slightly shorter than Cid. Cloud was attractive and brave and even though he seemed withdrawn from people, Vincent could understand why that was, and he still found Cloud to be infinitely more pleasant company than the pilot. He hadn't been lying when he'd told the blond that he felt he could talk to him. They had been getting along well. It was a shame Cloud had to ruin things by trying to kiss him.

Vincent hadn't expected Cloud to _help_ him in that way. He would have been content had he just sat and listened to his problems. He knew why Cloud had done it though. He was aware that he blond was trying to help him figure out whether he was deprived, or whether he actually wanted Cid. Vincent was afraid of what the answer would be so he had stopped the kiss. If he was delusional, then he preferred to keep it that way. It was better than knowing that he liked Cid Highwind.

The gunman shook his head miserably and walked across the bar to the stairs, finally deciding that he should get some rest. He'd been doing a lot of running lately, after all, and he probably had some more to do the following day. Vincent climbed half way up the steps before he paused, realizing that he didn't know in which room he would be staying. It was almost guaranteed that he would be bunking with at least one of the blonds and that thought made him turn right back around. He could stand to sleep in a booth for one night. He'd slept in worse places before and morning would come soon anyway.

The farther away from the blonds he was, the sounder he would sleep…or so he figured…


	7. Boiling Over

Boiling Over

Cid was an early riser. He was always up at the crack of dawn because there was always something to do. As captain of his ship, it was his duty to do the rounds and make sure everything was running smoothly and his crew was doing what they were supposed to. Even grounded, Cid couldn't take the few extra hours to sleep in and relax. He headed downstairs to the bar to start off his morning with a cup of tea. He cursed loudly when his heel slid off the second to last step and he thudded down the rest of the way to the floor. He stayed in the splayed position he fell in for a few seconds as he waited to see if he'd woken anybody up. He grumbled in annoyance when he realized that not one person had stirred. He could have broken his neck and nobody would have known. Great team he had.

Cid irritably picked himself up off the floor and stomped towards the bar. He made a point to clang as many dishes together as he could as he went about fixing his tea. If Avalanche wasn't concerned for his health, then he wasn't concerned for their sleep.

"I do not remember asking for a wake-up call, Highwind."

Cid yelped and dropped the tea cup he was holding on the floor. It shattered instantly. "The fuck?" He spun around to stare at Vincent across the bar, eyes wide as he clutched his heart. "Vin? You tryin'a give me a heart attack or what? ….Fuck," he panted and swallowed, "When the hell'd you get down here?"

"I was always down here, Highwind. You were just too busy making noise to notice." Vincent got up from the booth and stretched. "And please, don't let my presence stop you. Continue making a racket. I think the rest of the team is still asleep."

Cid growled. "Still waking up on the wrong side of the bed, huh? Maybe you should try sleeping in an ACTUAL bed, Vin. Sure as hell won't do ya any harm." Vincent narrowed his eyes and grunted, looking away. Cid rolled his eyes. "Look, you want some tea?"

Vincent shook his head. "No, thank you, Highwind," he answered curtly.

Cid scowled. "Oh yeah. Right. Forgot you drink motor oil," he muttered, believing that it wouldn't kill Vincent to answer him in a more pleasant tone.

The gunman turned his gaze back to Cid. "At least I am not gradually killing my friends with second hand smoke."

Cid growled again. "You tryin' to start something this early in the morning, Vin?"

Vincent shook his head and approached the bar. "Not at all. It is not my fault you are offended by the truth."

"Fuck you're a bitch, Vin." Cid said hotly, shaking his head. "Didn't think the psycho scientist guy shoved a tree up your ass at the same time he was experimentin' on ya."

Vincent's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Watch it, Highwind," he warned him in an icy tone.

Cid faced the bar and leaned on it heavily with his elbows. "Why? What are ya gonna do Vin? Run away again?" Vincent's angry stare lessened a little and his face tinged red with embarrassement. Cid snorted. "You want some advice? Shoot whatever idiot told you that that was intimidating. Now what the hell happened yesterday?"

Vincent stared at him, looking very uncomfortable and then dropped his gaze. "I ran away," he mumbled. "I assumed you saw that much."

"Of course I fucking did. What I wanna know is why ya took off instead of pullin' a gun on me, Vin."

Vincent frowned, still averting his gaze. "Why would I aim my gun at you?" he asked quietly.

"'Cause I pissed you off?" Cid suggested. "You were never one to run when there was a fight. Why the fuck did you do that to me?"

The gunman looked at him out of the corner of his eye, curiously. "You wanted me to fight you?"

"No," Cid shook his head, frowning. "I wanted answers, Vin. And I still do. What the hell's it gonna take? Do I gotta grab you again?"

"No!" Vincent's eyes widened and he held his cloak to his face, keeping it out of Cid's reach. The pilot's brow furrowed.

"I wasn't gonna grab you," he said, hearing the kettle boil, he walked over to pour his cup of tea. "I was askin' in case that was the way to get a straight answer from ya."

"I…," Vincent hesitated before sighing loudly. "I wanted to get away."

"Why?" Cid glanced back as he fixed his tea. "Cuz I was in your face?"

"Exactly." Vincent nodded.

"Uh huh…" That wasn't quite enough for the pilot. "So runnin' away and leaving me with your damn cloak was the best way to get me outta your face?"

"I-"

"And you really expect me to fuckin' believe that, Vin?" Cid spun around, angry, leaving his tea on the counter. "You think I'm that stupid? I know there's something else goin' on here." He stomped over to Vincent, stopping right in front of him; he slammed his hand down on the counter.

Vincent cowered slightly under his intense stare. "People are sle-"

"Don't you fucking bring 'people' into this, Vincent Valentine," Cid barked irritably. "We're talking about YOU here. You and ME." He pointed to both their chests as he spoke. "If you wanted me outta your face, you coulda just told me to let go. You coulda pushed me the fuck away. OR you coulda pulled one of your goddamn guns on me. Runnin' is not your style and you wouldn't of fuckin left your cloak behind. So what the fuck is going on?"

Cid hadn't been this pissed off in a while and he could tell that Vincent was shocked, maybe even a little frightened by his anger, but he wasn't going to let up. The gunman had been pushing his buttons way too much since they'd met up yesterday and he was tired of wondering why Vincent was being such a jerk to him. He was going to get an answer from the gunman, no matter what.

"Well?" he pushed, narrowing his eyes. "Why, Vin? Why?"

Vincent started panting as he began to panic and pointedly averted his gaze from the pilot. Cid growled. This was getting to be too much like last night.

"Vin!"

Vincent jerked his eyes back to Cid and they were as wide as saucers, very much the cornered animal look. Cid's eyes widened as well, realizing what was going to happen next.

"Don't you fucking dare, Valentine!"

Vincent bolted.

Cid dove over the bar top after him and managed to catch Vincent's cloak in his fist. He yanked Vincent back as he nose dived to the floor and he barely saw the gunman's feet fly up over his head. They both groaned as they smacked into the floor, but the gunman was the one who had been stunned by the fall. Cid had just smacked his shoulder, though it screamed at him as he crawled quickly towards the gunman. He had a sneaking suspicion that the straps on Vincent's cloak had broken during the fall and he wasn't going to give the gunman a chance to run again. Cid pounced on him and pinned him down. Vincent started struggling immediately, trying to buck him off of him. Cid grunted with pain and effort as he tried to keep him down. It was like grappling with a fish.

"VIN!" he yelled. "Fuckin calm down!"

"Cid?"

The blond pilot shot his gaze to the stairs where a groggy Cloud was standing in bare feet, the rest of Avalanche trailing behind him on the steps.

"What are you doing to Vincent?" Tifa asked, brow furrowed.

"Yeah!" Yuffie piped up, "Get off of him, Old Man! You're gonna crush him!"

Barret looked as if he wondering if Vincent and Cid had done anything while he was sharing a room with the pilot. Nanaki was just watching calmly and Cloud was staring at Vincent, a strange look in his eyes.

Cid growled and quickly scrambled off of the gunman. "He was trying to run again and I…," he scratched his head, "I just wanted to know why he hates me," he said in frustration.

All eyes turned to the gunman, waiting expectantly for him to respond to that.

"I-I have to go." Vincent muttered quickly, avoiding eye contact with everybody.

"Oh hell no-" Cid began but Cloud interrupted him.

"Let him go, Cid," he said. "He needs to go. Let him."

"But-"

No time for 'buts'. Vincent was already gone.

Cid growled.

_To no fucking end…_


	8. Iced Tea

Iced Tea

So Vincent had begun to predict the future. Before going to bed last night he'd had an inkling that he'd be running from the 7th again, and that prediction had come true. He would have been proud of his newfound skill had his actions not been so pathetic. If the whole of Avalanche had been with him, running from some impending doom, instead of him fleeing solo on account of an angry and loud pilot, he would have been okay. But the truth depressed him.

This was not like him. This was not the attitude of a legendary Turk. This was not the Vincent Valentine who had helped save the planet on more than one occasion. This was the way a frightened schoolboy acted, or a coward at any rate. Vincent was supposed to be cool and collected, not jittery and liable to run at any given moment.

When had he lost his way? Vincent figured it was the moment he'd walked into the bar and heard his name squealed by an overactive ninja. His fate had been sealed in that instant. Things could only go downhill from there—and they had. A whole _Avalanche_ of shit had come his way with Cid leading the fray.

But it hadn't been Cid's fault, really. Vincent had started it by being cold to him, and he'd really blown it when he decided to be extra arrogant to the pilot that morning. His intention had been to make Cid storm off. He'd stupidly thought that maybe if he was more hostile to the pilot at the get go, then Cid would say 'fuck it' and leave him alone. But Vincent had greatly underestimated just how stubborn Cid could be. Insulting the blond had only spurred him on. Vincent should have expected that reaction, but no, he'd had a minor ounce of hope that Cid could be like normal people.

Now Vincent knew better.

But what was he doing running away? It wasn't as if the matter would suddenly disappear once he got a few miles between him and Avalanche. Cid would never forget. EVER. Vincent knew that much. As soon as there was another get-together, Cid would lay into him. There was no escaping this, not unless Vincent chose to hide for the rest of his existence. It was a tempting plan, oh so very tempting, but incredibly ridiculous at the same time once you got to the heart of the matter.

Vincent knew he should just suck it up, march back to the bar, grab Cid and lay a big, wet one on him, or at least spill the truth. His teammates' reactions couldn't be that bad. And if he expected the worst, then he couldn't be surprised. Embarrassed, yes, but not surprised. It was inevitable that he'd be gawked at, laughed at and probably yelled at, maybe even run-threw with a spear, but if he survived, at least Avalanche would know why he needed to be left alone.

Hopefully.

And yet, understanding that Vincent needed space did not mean that he would actually get it. It wasn't the way Avalanche worked, or at least it wasn't the way the girls in the team functioned. Vincent could see himself being held as a sort of hostage, Tifa keeping him there with hugs and soft words, undoubtedly trying to comfort him, while he got the other extreme from Yuffie as she scolded him and told him he could do better than Cid. Cloud might try to say something since he'd suddenly decided to talk to Vincent. Nanaki might offer a sympathetic look. Barret would curse, scowl and ignore the gunman, as was his custom. And Cid…would be something else entirely. Vincent didn't want to imagine how he'd be treated by the pilot after he broke the news to him. In short, instead of letting him have his peace, Vincent would get attention he didn't want.

At least this was the dismal outlook that Vincent had.

"Hey Valentine, where's the fire?"

Vincent skidded to a stop a few feet from the redheaded Turk he'd just passed. Normally he would have ignored Reno completely, but lately he'd been doing things that weren't his usual behaviour. Apparently he was still keeping with that trend.

Vincent didn't answer the Turk but did face him. Reno sauntered up with an easy grin on his face. "So what's the big hurry, Valentine? You forget to turn off the stove? Leave the bath water running?"

Vincent sighed, in no mood for humour. "Good morning, Reno. Rude," he nodded to the redhead's partner as he joined his side.

"Hey, see!" Reno smirked and nudged Rude, "Told you he could talk."

The bald man rolled his eyes, thankful for the sunglasses he wore so his partner couldn't see the 'you're an idiot' look he was giving him. "I told you that," he grumbled, "You're the one who said he was dumb."

Reno looked scandalized as he turned to his partner. "Don't tell him that! I never said that!" he glanced back at Vincent, somewhat nervously. "Really."

Vincent shook his head at the same time as Rude.

"Dumb as in 'mute', Reno," his partner clarified.

"Huh?" the redhead didn't catch on.

Rude took a deep, steadying breath. "Dumb as in mute. Mute, as in '_cannot_ speak'."

"What?" Reno paused to process that bit of information. It took a minute or so before it finally clicked. "OH! Oh right!" He nodded and grinned. "But that's not what I said."

"And what did you say?" Vincent knew he'd regret asking the question, but it just slipped out.

Reno looked at him and scratched the back of his head. "Um…what I said is that you probably forgot how to talk after lyin' in that mansion all those years...you know, lack of human contact and shit."

Vincent's jaw set into a scowl and he turned to Rude. "Ever get the desire to test your partner's theory on him?"

Rude grunted and his lips quirked into a slight smile. "All the time," he said.

"Hey!" Reno pouted, "What happened to backing me up, Partner!?"

Rude shook his head. "There can't be two idiots on a team."

"And what is that supposed to mean!?"

The bald man now had Reno's undivided attention so Vincent decided to take the opportunity to leave before any more of his time was wasted by the Turks. He took off at a sprint and was finally starting to believe that he was home free when suddenly the wind began to pick up and a roaring noise became louder and louder, sounding like it was coming from the skies. His blood froze when he realized what it was.

"Oh no…" He looked up, and sure enough, he saw the metallic underbelly of Cid's ship hovering right over him. His hope that it would just pass on was crushed when he heard the blond pilot yelling over the loud speaker.

"Vin! You hold it right there!"

Vincent felt his stomach plummet to his feet. He looked down, and all around wildly, searching for an escape.

"Vin! Don't you fucking dare! I swear I'll drop somethin' on yer ass if you run again! You're coming on board and that's it."

Vincent flinched as a rope dropped from the ship and hit the ground. He was now quite certain of two things.

One, things were going to go very badly from here on out. And two, Highwind was insane…Certifiably so.

Vincent wondered if it was too late to learn how to fly.


	9. Hot milk

Hot Milk

Cloud stood on the bridge with Cid as the pilot shouted at Vincent over the loudspeaker and barked orders to the rest of his crew. Since take-off, the ex-SOLDIER had been trying very hard to stay out of the pilots way, partly for his own safety, and partly because Cid hadn't wanted any of Avalanche to come on board. He had said that he wanted to talk to Vincent all alone, and mostly without bossy little ninjas who apparently knew best.

Cloud had managed to finagle and invitation by pointing out that he had been the only one so far who had been able to get a word out of the gunman, so he figured he could help. Cid had grudgingly allowed him to come aboard, but Cloud was where he drew the line. The rest of Avalanche would have to wait with baited breath back at the 7th Heaven to hear how things went.

Helping Vincent had been the excuse, and although Cloud wanted to do just that, he was more concerned about fulfilling his secret agenda; getting that vacation. Helping the gunman was the perfect excuse for getting some time off without having to admit to Tifa that he needed it. Even if it was no more than a few a days, it was still more than he would have gotten had he stayed home. Cloud just couldn't ask for help, even if he was ready to give it all the time.

"Goddamn ungrateful…pretty…bastard, won't drink fucking tea…brought for team…thinks he's fucking better than everyone…"

Cloud tuned in Cid's grumbling intermittently as he and the pilot waited for Vincent to climb aboard the Highwind. He'd not seen the pilot this fired up in a long time, and he never thought that it would be because of the ever-quiet Vincent Valentine. Still, stranger things had happened.

"You!" Cid suddenly shouted to one of his crewman, "If Valentine doesn't get his ass up here in ten seconds, drop one of them crates of tea on his sorry fucking ass." The crewman nodded hesitantly and Cid went back to watching out the window. "He won't drink the tea? Then I'll fucking make him eat it, "he grumbled angrily to himself.

Cloud shook his head. "He's climbing, Cid. Give him a minute."

"No way," said the pilot, "He gets half that time. Should damn well teach him to climb as fast as he runs."

"You need to relax, Cid."

"I'm relaxed, kid," the pilot said through clenched teeth, "Completely and totally fucking calm."

Cloud believed that as much as he believed that Cid wasn't mad enough to make good on his threat to drop something on Vincent. He breathed a sigh of relief as he heard the loud clink of Vincent's boots as he stepped onto the bridge. The gunman looked worried and Cloud didn't blame him in the least.

"Hello Cloud," Vincent greeted him quietly, "Highwind…"

Cid didn't face him yet, but he was listening. "Thinking of running again, Vin?"

Vincent bit his lip. "It would not be wise to do so in an airborne ship. There aren't many places to go except straight down."

Cid grunted. "Damn straight. And if you ever get the sudden urge to sprout wings and fly? I'll fucking weld your goddamn boots to the floor. Got that, Vin? You're here to talk. No more runnin'."

Vincent took a deep breath and nodded, staring miserably at Cloud, as if the blond could help him. "I understand, Highwind."

"Good," Cid turned around and clapped his hands, suddenly grinning. "My ship, my rules. We're talkin' over tea."

Vincent groaned and Cloud shook his head. The blond wasn't sure if tea was a wise move considering how fast tempers had risen the last time they were all drinking it.

"Cid," he began, but the pilot cut him off.

"You're coming too, kid. Wanna know what Vin told you in case he won't tell me." The dark-haired man looked even more depressed when Cid said that.

Cid told his crew to hold down the fort and then he lead the way to the galley, he made Cloud take up the rear so Vincent had nowhere to go but forward. Nobody spoke as they walked down the corridors, and Cloud felt like he and Cid were marching Vincent off to be executed. He figured that he gunman had similar feelings.

"Sit the hell down and I'll make the tea," Cid gave the order as they entered the galley, and Cloud and Vincent obediently sat on a bench in front of a small table, watching the pilot go about his business. Cloud wanted to say something to Vincent, tell him not to worry, maybe even pat him comfortingly on the shoulder, but he found he couldn't do it with Cid in the room. He decided that silence was probably best for now, though Vincent apparently thought different.

Cloud was surprised when the gunman suddenly spoke to him. "It was only you who came?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," Cloud whispered back, "Cid didn't want anyone else."

"Hey!" Cid called to them from the stove. "Keep yer yaps shut until I sit. I don't wanna miss anything."

Cloud frowned. "We're not saying anything important, Cid."

"I'll be the judge of that, kid. Just give me a few. The tea's almost ready."

Vincent sighed heavily as he watched the pilot. "Can't I have coffee, Highwind?" he asked, and the words made Cloud wince. He really wished Vincent hadn't said that. He apparently did too once Cid slammed the kettle of boiling water back into the stove and glared daggers at him.

"What the fuck did I say before, Vin? Whose goddamn ship are we on?"

Vincent lowered his gaze. "..yours."

"Fuckin' right, it is," Cid nodded, "And I said we were drinking tea, didn't I?" He looked to Cloud for confirmation. The blond didn't appreciate the attention, but responded in the affirmative. "There, you see, Vin? Tea. Now shut the fuck up and wait for it." Cid turned back to the counter and paused. "You guys want cookies or something?"

Cloud looked to Vincent, who didn't seem keen on anything, so he answered for himself. "Sure…as long they're not stale."

"Can't guarantee that, kid, but we'll hope."

Cid finally walked the tea over to the table and poured each of them a cup, making a point to shove Vincent's right under his nose. He then walked back to get the cookies and returned to the table, sliding onto a bench across from them. He watched the gunman intently.

"Don't just stare at it," Cid scowled. "Fucking drink it, Vin."

"You cannot force me to drink anything, Highwind." Vincent responded calmly.

"I fuckin' made it, so you're gonna fuckin' drink it."

Cloud decided to sip his tea so Cid wouldn't get on his case as well. He watched the two men bickering with the hope that things wouldn't escalate to violence.

Vincent looked up at the pilot and narrowed his eyes. "That is not how this works, Highwind. I am not thirsty."

"You don't need to be goddamn thirsty to drink tea, Valentine. You're just supposed to enjoy it."

Vincent snorted. "Well I do not enjoy it, so I am not drinking it."

Cid growled and slammed his hands down on the table top, this seemed to be his favourite gesture for showing his anger. "You didn't even try the fucking stuff, so you can't fucking tell me that you don't like it."

"I believe I just did," Vincent answered smoothly.

Cloud gulped and watched a vein protrude on Cid's forehead as the man seethed. He could not believe that Vincent was provoking the pilot like this. He was essentially begging to be tossed overboard and Cloud dearly hoped that that was no the gunman's master plan.

"Guys, come on," the blond said, hoping to placate the two, "It's not that big of a deal. Do you really want to argue over tea?"

"Of course I fucking do," Cid snapped, "Stay out of this, kid. This is between me and the ungrateful prick over there."

Vincent narrowed his eyes at the insult. "Why can't you get it through your thick skull, Highwind? I do not like tea. It does not matter how many times you offer it to me, or how many times you ram a cup of it under my nose, I will not drink it."

"Why the hell not?" Cid objected, and Vincent's eyes widened.

"Are you insane?" he asked incredulously, "I just told you why. I do not like it. My god, you only hear what you want to, don't you?"

The pilot growled. "So it's not coffee, but it's still hot, ain't it?"

"That is not the point, Highwind. It does not taste the same."

Afraid that Cid would suddenly try to force feed Vincent the tea, Cloud took it upon himself to do the extreme, and he swiped his hand across the table, knocking over and spilling all their cups.

Both men blinked and stared at him, flabbergasted, momentarily forgetting their anger with each other, as if the tea had been holding them under its wicked spell. Cloud shrank a little under their stunned gazes.

"…you were fighting over tea," he said quietly, hoping that they'd realize how ridiculous they had been. It was enough to subdue Vincent, but then again, he had only been reacting to the loud pilot in the first place. Cid relaxed only minutely.

"I wouldn't be so pissed off if he'd take one damn sip," the pilot grumbled, crossing his arms and glaring at the gunman.

Cloud sighed. "He'll have it if he wants it, Cid. You can't force him to drink it and you can't force him to talk." Vincent nodded appreciatively at the statement but Cid scowled.

"Oh hell no," he said childishly, "Vin's not getting out of this. I wanna know what the hell's going on!"

"I know you do," Cloud agreed, "And Vincent owes you an explanation. He knows that, but it's obviously hard for him. You can't just demand and expect to receive on the spot. Give him some time. You're basically holding him as a hostage, so he's not going anywhere. He'll talk when he's ready."

Cid sighed in frustration and ran a hand through his hear, scowling at the spilled tea on table. "That stuff's not free, ya know?" he muttered as he reached for his new pack of cigarettes and lit one, puffing away moodily.  
Cloud looked sheepish. "Yeah, sorry about that. I just didn't think I could yell over you, and I wanted to get rid of the problem."

Cid grunted. "Apology accepted, kid. But if you try that shit again, you better learn how to fly first." The pilot then turned his attention to Vincent. "We're done here for now. You can talk to me when you want. Now get yer scrawny ass outta here cuz I plan to smoke the rest of my pack, and I know you don't like it."

Vincent seemed more than happy to escape and promptly hurried out of the galley. Cid stopped Cloud before he could follow him, however.

"You know why he's acting like this, don't you kid?" he said, sounding tired, yet calmer. Cloud figured it was the magical effect of his cigarettes.

He nodded. "More or less. He told me some things…but I think he's still trying to work out the reason for himself."

Cid sighed and took a long drag of his cigarette. "Could ya help him? Cuz it's driving me crazy not knowing why he hates me so much."

Cloud nodded. "I'll try, Cid…and just for the record, Vincent doesn't hate you. I know that much." He left Cid with those words and exited the galley, feeling that this was not going to be quite the vacation that he'd envisioned.


	10. Warming Up

Warming Up

Sitting in his room on the Highwind—or rather, barricaded in his room—Vincent was staring at the clock, watching it tick away the hours to his doom. He'd escaped from Cid's clutches a second time, once again with Cloud's help, but Vincent found it difficult to be happy about it. He was still only prolonging the inevitable. Sooner or later there wouldn't be a spiky-haired blond to create an escape route for him and Vincent would finally have to give Cid an explanation, be it the truth or a plausible lie…It was a shame that Vincent was coming up short in the 'plausible lie' department.

Briefly he'd thought of asking Cloud for his opinion, but not only had the blond helped him out enough already, he had also made the gunman slightly nervous to be alone in his presence. Cloud was more observant than he'd thought, and far more 'helpful' than he would have liked him to be. As a result, Vincent wasn't sure if he liked having Cloud on the ship with him. Yes, it was nice having someone close by who was able to speak in more than grunts and curses, but since the 'near kiss' back on land, Vincent wasn't sure if he trusted himself around the ex-SOLDIER. And not only that, if Cid got desperate enough, he might be able to pry some information from his fellow blond and Vincent certainly couldn't have that.

The bottom line was, Vincent was screwed, and all he could do now was await his demise, whilst praying for a miracle. Vincent didn't want to wish any misfortune on anyone, but in the back of his mind, he kind of hoped that Cid would somehow smack his head hard enough to give himself amnesia…or a concussion. But the gunman also knew that the thought was pointless, Cid's head was probably too hard to sustain any real damage.

Damn the pilot for being so hard-headed…and hard-bodied…and cocky…and…

Vincent flushed up, dipping his face further behind his mantle, hiding, even if there was no one around to see his blush. He hadn't just had naughty thoughts about the loud-mouthed pilot, had he? No. He had merely been thinking about the man as a fighter. Cid was a fine warrior. That was it. There had been nothing lustful about Vincent's thoughts. The blush and the flutter in his stomach meant nothing.

Nothing. It was just nerves.

Vincent jumped as there was a knock at his cabin door. He took a moment to swallow before answering. "Yes?" he called out; sounding slightly edgy since he feared it would be Cid at the door. He relaxed only slightly when it was Cloud who answered.

"Supper's ready," he heard the blond say, "And Cid says you have to come out to eat or else he's gonna drag you down to the galley and force feed you."

It was a threat, Vincent knew, but he couldn't face Cid so early. Already a tight knot had formed in the pit of his stomach at the mention of the pilot, and there was no possible way that he could eat. What little appetite he had had was long gone. He would just have to risk the pilot's wrath.

"I…can't join you for dinner, Cloud," Vincent replied quietly, hoping the blond would hear him, "Please apologize to Cid for me."

"Vincent…" Cloud said, almost anxiously, "I think Cid was being serious about dragging you to supper."

The gunman sighed softly and finally got up to answer the door, opening it only a crack in case it was all a ploy and the pilot was standing beside Cloud, ready to bust his way in. He relaxed minutely when he saw that his former teammate was alone.

"I'm not feeling well, Cloud," he said softly. "I cannot eat."

The blonde's brow furrowed in concern. "Do you need to go to the infirmary? You look pale."

Vincent shook his head. "I am always pale, Cloud. I just need some rest and some time alone. Please tell Cid that I will see him tomorrow."

Cloud looked unsure, but he nodded and slowly took his leave. Vincent closed and locked the door behind him, going back to sit on his bed. He knew he wouldn't be able to get the rest that he had told Cloud he needed, but at least he would get the alone time.

Or so he had thought until a few minutes later when heard a beast barreling down the hallway towards his cabin. He shot to his feet as his door shook violently thanks to angry pounding and his eyes widened as the roaring began.

"Vin! Open the hell up, or I swear to fuck I'll break the door down!"

No time to wonder when it was that Cid had completely lost his mind, Vincent hurriedly opened the door and jumped back as Cid launched himself into the room.

"Cid—" he half squeaked in shock.

"Don't ya fuckin' Cid me," the pilot growled. "Ya were told it was supper. Now march yer scrawny ass to the galley. Yer too damned skinny to skip meals."

Vincent retreated back a few steps, feeling the knot in his stomach cinch tighter. "I can't…"

"Can't what? Can't look at my face? Can't pretend ya don't hate me, Vin?" Cid stomped forward to make up the distance that Vincent had put between them. "Fuck what Cloud said. You hate me. I get it, but you can at least fuckin' try to sociable when yer on MY goddamn ship, Valentine. And I know for a fact that you haven't eaten anything but that fucking cup of coffee back at Tif's so yer comin' down for dinner. You got that?"

Vincent stared at him with growing panic, unable to respond. He couldn't explain why his nerves were suddenly going wild, but the calm, dignified Vincent Valentine didn't exist anymore, not that it had for an entire day now.

Shaking his head for no real reason, Vincent backed himself into a corner and shrank down to his knees, staring anywhere but at Cid. He barely registered the pilot grunting and walking over to him, but he flinched when he caught sight of the blond in his peripheral vision. The pilot was now kneeling beside him, looking completely surprised and lost.

"Vin?" he asked in confusion. "The hell's goin'…" he trailed off and put a hand on Vincent's shoulder, causing the gunman to gasp, "Fuck. You okay? Shit…Look, I didn't mean…what the fuck is goin' on with you?" He still didn't sound angry, but Vincent, even in his panicked state could distinguish the frustration and concern in his voice.

"Vin," Cid said his name again, sounding almost as gentle as Tifa. "I'm sorry. You don't gotta eat if ya don't want to. Geez. I wasn't tryin'a scare the shit out of you, but I'm fuckin' at the end of my rope here."

Vincent took a shuddering breath as his nerves began to wind down, only slightly, but he was no longer on the verge of hyperventilating. Somehow the change in Cid's tone had soothed him a little, though he still wouldn't risk looking at the pilot. He had to take baby steps or he'd end up running again.

The gunman figured Cid was relaxing as well since he took his hand off his shoulder and plopped himself on the floor beside Vincent. "You okay now, Vin?"

Vincent swallowed loudly and nodded his head jerkily. "Better," he whispered.

"Good," Cid nodded, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it instantly out of habit. He took a drag and then cursed, remembering how Vincent felt about smoke. He began to apologize, but Vincent cut him off.

"It's fine, Highwind," the gunman said, his voice sounding almost as steady as usual. "It's your ship."

Cid grunted. "Yeah, but I know how ya feel about this shit." He made to stub out his cigarette on the floor, but Vincent took it from him and, pulling his mantle down, took a small puff, coughing immediately afterwards. He held the nicotine stick back out to Cid and the pilot took it from him, deciding on another few drags for himself.

"What do ya think yer doin,' Vin?" he asked, blowing smoke out the side of his mouth.

Vincent took a few deep breaths before answering rather hoarsely, "I was curious."

"Yeah well. Don't be. It's a bad fuckin' habit to start."

The gunman nodded and stared down at the floor, falling silent as he unconsciously licked his lips, happy for the cover of his cloak. His mouth tasted like smoke, but it was Cid…and he realized that it didn't taste so bad.

"I'm fuckin' starving, so I'm gonna go eat," Cid said as he got up. "Galley's open if ya decide yer hungry. 'K, Vin?" Vincent didn't lift his gaze since he realized that he was blushing, but he nodded once.

"Alright." Cid grunted, heading for the door, but paused when he got to. "Vin? Can I ask ya a question?"

Vincent tensed slightly, but answered in the affirmative. "Yes…?"

"Do ya hate me?"

If Vincent hadn't known any better, he would have said that the pilot actually sounded worried, but he would set his mind at ease.

"No," he answered truthfully, "I don't hate you, Cid." And he really didn't.

"Good to hear," the pilot said with an obvious, and sudden grin. "Maybe we can talk after you've stopped PMSin' then?"

"Maybe," Vincent agreed and listened for Cid's quick goodbye before the door to his cabin closed and he promptly passed out, the stress finally getting the better of him.


	11. Just Two Lumps

Just Two Lumps

As usual, Cid was the first to make it to the galley in the morning, and like always, he planned to start off his morning with a nice hot cup of tea. For the rest of his crew, he made a pot of coffee, knowing that it was their hot beverage of choice. It sickened the pilot, but if it kept them away from his stash of tea, then he could tolerate it.

Once the drinks were taken care of, Cid bustled around the galley, getting things together for his breakfast. While cracking two eggs into a bowl, Cid was surprised to find that they sounded more like the clunk of metal, rather than shells cracking. A second later he realized that the sound was actually from someone entering the galley, someone with gold metal boots.

"Vin!?" Cid grinned, surprised and happy to see his former teammate up and about. "You're up."

Vincent nodded. "I am still an early riser," he said, his statement followed by a loud stomach growl which caused Cid to laugh. "And I was hungry." the gunman admitted quietly.

"Tch. Well no shit. Have a seat. I'll whip us up some breakfast."

Vincent blinked as he walked over to a bench. "You can cook?" There was no hiding the surprise in his voice and Cid scowled.

"Dammit Vin. Don't act so fuckin' surprised. I'm a big boy. Don't always need Shera and Tif to feed me."

"…I apologize," Vincent said, his gaze lowered. "I meant no offense."

Cid waved him off with a grunt. "Forget it," he said, walking over to the cook top, "Made you coffee. Better take it before the crew gets their mitts on it."

"Oh!? You don't make them drink tea?"

"Hey. Don't fuckin' say it like I'm force feedin' anyone."

"…I apologize…I should have worded it differently."

"Tch. Don't worry about it," Cid said with a shrug, "Anyway, tea's too good for those bums. S'only for me and my buddies." He picked up a tea pouch and waggled in front of Vincent. "Can I interest ya in a cup now that you don't hate me?" he asked, sounding hopeful, yet expecting the gunman to decline.

Vincent took his time answering, but then nodded, which completely floored the pilot.

"Shit? Really?!" he said, sounding far too excited, but he couldn't help himself.

The gunman nodded again. "Yes. I would like a cup of tea, please."

"Fuck yeah!" Cid grin widely, victoriously. "Gotta break out the good china for this!"

"…it really isn't necessary."

"Like fuck it isn't. This is definitely one of those momentary occasions."

Vincent looked at him blankly, and then asked tentatively, "Did you mean 'momentous' occasion?"

"Bah," Cid waved him off. "Momentary. Momentous. Same shit."

"...if you say so," Vincent commented quietly.

"Damn right I say so."

Cid stomped over to a cabinet and grabbed a dainty tea set on a tray, carrying it over to the table that Vincent was sitting at. He set it down, but took the tea pot to the counter and began to boil water, afterwards starting in again on the breakfast preparations.

"Scrambled eggs and toast good for you?"

"I suppose in moderation," Vincent answered absently, examining the tea set. "But I believe that consuming too much would not be good for cholesterol levels."

"Huh?" Cid's brow furrowed, wondering why he was getting yet another health lesson from 'Dr.' Vincent Valentine. "What the hell are you on about, Vin? Was just askin' if ya wanted eggs and toast for breakfast."

"…oh." The gunman's face heated up. "Yes…that would be fine. Thank you."

Cid nodded and turned back to the stove, not paying much mind to Vincent after that, even when he began to feel eyes boring into the back of his head as he prepared breakfast for two.

He could withstand the gaze for a while, but after some time he began to fear that Vincent would actually start to burn a hole through his skull.

"What?" he asked, in mild exasperation, glancing over his shoulder at the gunman, who quickly looked away. "You wanna ask me somethin'?"

Vincent shook his head and Cid was disappointed. He had been hoping for a conversation to start, and preferably a conversation that would lead to the reason why Vincent was acting so goddamned crazy around him. He was tired of drawing his own conclusions as they were becoming increasingly farfetched; the most recent of which involved the contraction of a mutated strain of Geostigma that had been dormant in Vincent's body up until now, and that obviously fucked with the victim's mind….or maybe that wasn't so farfetched after all. Considering all the shit Cid had seen, it could happen, though it didn't explain why Vincent was only freaking out around him and not the others. The mood swings were totally throwing him off.

Then again…

"Vin?" Cid scraped the eggs across the pan with his spatula, still watching his friend. "You pregnant?"

"What?" came the squeaked response. Never before had the pilot seen a face turn such an intense shade of red, but Vincent was nearly matching the colour of his cloak.

Cid wanted to laugh, but he held it in. "I asked if you was pregnant? Only reason I could think of for all the mood swings"

"But…I'm a MAN." Vincent answered, a little incredulous.

"Well yeah," Cid nodded, "Prettiness aside, I know you're a guy. But I dunno what that Hojo fuckwad did to ya. Could've added extra plumbin' down there while he was fillin' ya demons, for all I know."

Vincent's face darkened and Cid never even saw him stand, but he'd clued in by the time the gunman had gotten to the galley door, clearly on his way out.

"Hey Vin! Where ya goin'?" he asked in a slight panic, dropping the spatula hastily on the counter as he took steps towards the door. Vincent glared at him and he froze. The guy wasn't just a little pissed off at him; that much was clear.

"I do not think I will be having breakfast," Vincent said curtly. "Perhaps I will see you at lunch." The 'perhaps' sounded very much like 'don't hold you breath' to the pilot, and Cid frowned, very sorry now that things had turned sour between him and the gunman again.

"I'm really sorry, Vin. I went too far. I wasn't thinkin'."

"That always seems to be your problem, Highwind. At your age, you should be using a less tired and pathetic excuse."

And now Cid was pissed. He growled, taking a few more steps forward. "You tryin' to start somethin' Pretty Boy? I fuckin' apologized. I wasn't tryin' ta hurt your goddamn feelings or stir up bad memories and shit. I just want to fuckin understand you. Yer drivin' me nuts."

"Then I will get out of your way," Vincent said calmly and turned to go, but Cid was having none of that, not this time, and he grabbed his arm, yanking him back towards the counter. They both stumbled a few steps and Cid winded up sandwiched between the cabinet and Vincent. Immediately the gunman tried to escape, but he wound his arms tightly around the man's thin waist and held on, squeezing him in something of a bear hug.

"Stop fuckin' squirming, Vin."

"Let me go!" the gunman shouted, almost pleading as he struggled, but Cid only held him tighter, looking up at the taller man's face.

"Calm down, dammit. I don't wanna hurt y—"

Cid barely registered the pain and the heat on the back of his head before his arms and legs gave way and he slid down Vincent's body, hitting the ground and passing out with his face in a small puddle of scrambled eggs.


	12. Pouring Out

Chap 12: Pouring Out

"I think I may have killed him Cloud," Vincent said miserably, staring at the prone body of the pilot on the floor of the galley, face still smeared with egg.

His solemn blond companion, hastily dressed after being dragged out of bed, shook his head and gave Cid a nudge with his untied boot. "He's drooling and still breathing, Vincent. And besides, Cid's got a hard head. It'll take more than breakfast to kill him." He looked over at the gunman. "Why'd you do it anyway?"

Vincent gulped, hesitant to reveal the truth. "…he was holding me…and I wanted to leave."

Cloud sighed at the confession. It sounded so much like what had happened the last time between Vincent and the pilot. "You need to tell him how you feel, Vincent."

"But I—"

"You like him, Vincent." Cloud cut in before his friend could deny anything. "You used to be calm around Cid, and now you're not. I don't know when your feelings changed, but they did. You're a mess, and you have to tell him how you feel. Cid won't let this drop and he can only take so many knocks to the head. I know you're scared, but you owe him an explanation for your behaviour."

"But Cloud, I—"

"Tell him," the blond said firmly, yet tiredly. "You may not get the response you're hoping for, but you have to fess up." Like Cid, Cloud was tiring of the drama onboard the ship and he just wanted the air to clear. He only hoped that when and if Vincent found the courage to admit to Cid that he liked him, the pilot would take it well. Guaranteed there would be yelling, but as long as no one was tossed overboard, all would be relatively well.

Vincent lowered his eyes to the floor. "Do I really like Cid Highwind?" he asked. Cloud wasn't sure if it was a question he was asking himself out loud or not, but he answered anyway, with a question of his own, which then turned into a question and answer period as he tried to get to the heart of the matter.

"Do you like being around him, Vincent?"

"I am uncomfortable around him."

"But why is that?"

"…he gets too close."

"Why is that a problem?"

"He is in my personal space."

"But you used to let him get closer to you. You used to let him at least stand next to you. Now you can't even handle that. Why?"

"He has become more obnoxious and loud."

"No he hasn't. Cid's the same as he ever was. You're using weak excuses again, Vincent."

The gunman frowned darkly and turned his back, unable to look at Cloud or the unconscious body on the floor. "What is it you want to hear, Cloud? What should I say? Do you want me to tell you that my pulse quickens whenever Cid is standing next to me? Or how, despite my usual revulsion to cigarettes, I desperately want to taste that ashtray that he calls a mouth? Or how—"

"Vincent," Cloud interrupted quickly, feeling there was something the gunman should know, having caught movement on the floor out of the corner of his eye, but the dark-haired man ignored him and continued on with his rant.

"I'm not finished Cloud. I haven't told you how I long to be held by him, ever since our first altercation at Tifa's bar. But I can't tell Cid all this because I am terrified of rejection. Terrified of giving my heart to someone else and then losing them. I cannot relive that again, Cloud. I know you can understand that. Cid won't want me anyway. Being pretty still does not make me a woman."

"Who says I want a woman?"

Cloud tensed at the same time as Vincent. He'd tried to warn his friend that the pilot was regaining consciousness, but he hadn't wanted to listen. And maybe it was better this way. Cloud wasn't sure if Cid had heard the entire confession, but as long as he'd registered the last two sentences, it was enough.

"Stand in the doorway, Spike." Cid muttered drowsily as he sat up and rested his back against the cabinet, rubbing the bump on his head and wincing. "I'd ask ya to leave so me and Vin could talk private-like, but I'm fuckin' afraid of him runnin' again and I want a witness this time in case he tries ta fuckin' bean me again. 'sdies, you know all about his, right?" The blond nodded and glanced at Vincent as he walked to the door to stand guard. Cid grunted. "Knock his skinny ass down if he makes a break fer it. We're fuckin' talkin' this time. You got that, Vin?"

The gunman nodded shakily and from where he was standing, Cloud could definitely make out the fear in the gunman's eyes. Not something he would ever have attributed to the stoic man.

"Good," Cid said and wiped some egg from his face. "Turn around, Vin. Wanna see yer face for this damn heart t'heart. And don't worry. Not gonna move from this spot so you got no reason to run from me."

Cloud watched Vincent turn around and glance in his direction. The blond tried to give him an encouraging smile, but it didn't seem to help much. Vincent took a seat at the table and stared at the floor, clearing waiting for Cid to start the conversation.

"So…"Cid began, "Sure take playin' hard to get to the extreme, huh Vin? They teach ya that when you was in the Turks?" It was obvious Cid was trying to lighten the tension, which was nice to see. Cloud had expected instant yelling and a string of curses. Vincent appeared to have expected the same.

The gunman shook his head in answer to Cid's question, looking a little relieved, but only until he spoke and the anxiety returned in full force. "How…much did you hear?"

"Heard enough. But I gotta say, you got one hell of a way to show a guy you like 'im. Not mad though, just so you know. I can take worse than a pan in the head. Just wish you'd tried my cookin' before you dumped it over my head. I'm really not that bad a chef."

Vincent lowered his head further. "I am deeply sorry, Cid."

"Tch. What I just say, Vin? Don't worry about it. A bump and breakfast on the head's not important right now anyway. I want to hear you say it again. To my face."

The gunman's brow furrowed and he looked up. "I apologize?"

"Nah. Not that," Cid shook his head and had to close his eyes as it brought on a dizzy spell. "Nn…Tell me what you said to Cloud. Tell me everything."

"…must I?"  
"Damn right, you must. You like a guy, you run from him a couple dozen times, you refuse his cooking, AND you hit him with a pan? Least you can fuckin' do is confess to his face. I got a right to hear it, Vin."

"But you said you'd heard enough. You know my feelings."

"Heard some stuff. May not have heard everything. Wanna make sure I did."

Vincent took a nervous breath. "But what difference would it make? They are only my feelings. It is a one-sided confession."

"For now it is."

Cloud didn't miss the look Cid was giving the gunman, but Vincent apparently was confused by it. He watched the pilot grunt and slowly crawl his way over to the table where Vincent was sitting. The dark-haired man made to sit up straight, but Cid reached up and held his shoulders, keeping his body lowered so that they were almost at eye level. Any second Cloud expected to be bowled over my Vincent as he tried to run, but the seconds ticked by, and soon it was a full minute, then two and Vincent hadn't budged.

"Tell me Vincent," Cid said quietly, almost at the level of a whisper, "Please."

Vincent was shaking as he stared into the pilot's bright eyes, but he managed to come out with the words. "I…want to kiss you…"


	13. The First Sip

Lucky number 13. Here it is.

Chap 13: The First Sip

Finally Cid had a semi-confession from Vincent, yet he was torn between jumping for joy and strangling the gunman. He couldn't believe that he'd been put through so much trouble because Vincent had the hots for him and obviously couldn't deal with it. If only Cid had known that earlier, he would have gladly puckered up for his old teammate if it meant he could have saved some of his sanity and gone without a large bump on the head.

"Hey Kid. You mind givin' us some privacy?" Cid asked Cloud, staring up at Vincent the whole time, keeping his sights on him for fear that he would magically disappear if he looked away.

Cid didn't figure the gunman would try to run anymore. His secret was out so he had nothing else to hide. So given that, the pilot figured it was safe to let Cloud off the hook from his guard duty, plus he was betting that Vincent would relax a little more if he had one less audience member. He couldn't be sure, but he felt he had to risk the possibility of being trampled by the gunman to keep whatever was going to happen solely between himself and Vincent.

When Cloud left the galley, Cid decided to be strong and not call him back, even though Vincent instantly became more nervous once Avalanche's former leader was gone. The pilot gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he stood up and walked over to stove, putting the kettle back on boil. "How do you take it, Vin?" he asked.

"Excuse me?" Vincent replied quietly, not following the line of questioning.

"Yer tea, Vin," Cid clarified, "Ain't no way in hell yer gettin' a kiss 'til you try my tea. You owe me somethin' for all the shit you put me through. Don't ya think?"

Vincent blinked. "You're going to kiss me?" he asked in wonder.

The pilot grunted. "We'll talk about that in sec. Now answer the damn question."

"…which one? You asked two questions…"

Cid rolled his eyes to the heavens. "Oh for fuck's sake!" he growled softly, looking for strength. "What do ya want in yer tea, goddammit? Milk? Sugar?"

"…plain will be fine. Thank you." Vincent answered meekly.

Cid nodded and grabbed the kettle off the stove, pouring the boiling water into the tea pot. Somehow he had been expecting that Vincent wouldn't want anything in his tea, and he hadn't been disappointed. The guy took his coffee black after all.

"So…" Cid carried the teapot over to the table, maneuvering around the spilled breakfast that was still on the floor. He set the pot down and sat beside the gunman. "How long you wanted to kiss me, Vin? Since I grabbed you at Tif's place?" He asked, fishing for compliments, and to get Vincent to repeat what he had confessed to Cloud. After all the abuse, he felt his pride could use a little stroking.

Vincent looked away, his face red. "…Yes. The first time was then."

Cid grinned and jumped to the next topic. "What do ya like about me?" he asked, incredibly curious. He watched Vincent's brow furrow in thought, though he had to say that it looked more like he was suffering from an intense headache.

"I…find you vulgar," the gunman began, "Uncouth...and loud—"

"Any time you wanna get to the good points is fine with me, Vin…" Cid interrupted him a little moodily, his smile slipping.

"—but you have a good heart," Vincent continued hastily, "And I admire your passion. I suppose I am attracted to your personality, though I never thought I would ever say those words. I always believed that you'd be the last person on earth I would fall for. It's so strange."

Cid's smile completely vanished then, thoroughly insulted by the confession, even though Vincent had probably not meant it to hurt his feelings. Was he honestly saying that Barret or that irritating Turk Reno had a better shot with him than he did? He scowled. "Well fuck. Thanks for makin' it seem like liking me's the worst thing to ever happen to ya, Vin."

The dark-haired man frowned. "I am sorry. I did not mean it that way."

"But you don't like it," the pilot countered, "Wouldn't'a run away from me like ya did if you was happy about wanting me."

Vincent met his gaze briefly before looking away. "How would you feel if you were in my place?"

"Considerin' I'm the actual guy yer bitchin' about, I really can't empathize, Vin. I'm biased. I like me."

The gunman sighed heavily. "I like you too. The trouble is that I've spent so long being irritated by everything that you do, that it's difficult for me to accept that what I hated about you, I now like."

Cid grunted and didn't speak for a while after that, deciding to try and calm down a bit before he said something really nasty or scared Vincent off. He wasn't particularly fond of the man's company at the moment, but his former teammate was finally talking, and he didn't want to ruin that, even though he was pissed.

At last he let out a sigh that turned into a weak chuckle. "You really are one hell of a fucked up, unpredictable sonuvabitch, you know that?"

Vincent frowned, but then nodded morosely when he realized that Cid wasn't really trying to be insulting. "I have come to realize that, yes," he admitted.

Cid's smile returned. "Good," he said, "Just so long as you know yer crazy. And I got one last question…How come you was so hostile with me? I mean, I get the runnin', but the hostility?"

The former Turk heaved another sigh. "I suppose I was subconsciously trying to push you away, but it only seemed to bring you closer. It was very frustrating."

Cid took it all in and his grin widened. "Thanks Vin. And I'm not trying ta being sarcastic and shit. Never had anyone so into me before that he had to be such a prick. So I'll take it as a compliment."

"But it does not bother you that I like you?" Vincent asked, returning his gaze to the pilot.

Cid only continued to smile as he turned on the bench to pour the tea, carefully sliding a cup over to Vincent. "Try it."

"Highwi—Cid. Please answer my question."

"Try the damn tea first," Cid replied pointing authoritatively at the cup, secretly happy that Vincent had used his first name.

Vincent stared at the tea cup, but gave in quickly and picked it up, watching Cid over the rim as he lifted it to his lips. Cid held his breath as he heard a small slurp and watched Vincent swallow. He couldn't believe the gunman had finally tried his tea.

"Well?" he stared at him expectantly, "What do you think?"

"It's…," Vincent hesitated, "Do you honestly want to know what I think?"

"Fuckin' hell. Of course I do, Vin! Just tell me."

Vincent sighed. "If you'll excuse the pun, it's not my cup of tea."

Cid scowled, not really knowing what that meant, yet sensing an insult in there somewhere. "Speak English, dammit. What are you saying?"

"I am saying that I will not give up on coffee."

"Okay, but what the hell do you think of the tea?"

Vincent sighed again in frustration. "I don't like it, Cid. I was trying to be polite about it, but truthfully, I hate tea. Whether you make it or not, or whether it's a special brew, I will still hate it. I am sorry."

Cid's jaw dropped. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever thought that someone could hate tea, let alone HIS tea, his special tea. "Yer fuckin' crazy, Vin! Are you sure you hate it?! Take another sip. I bet you barely swallowed any. Drink the fucking cup. You can't tell me you hate somethin' when you didn't even have HALF a goddamn mouthful!" Cid spoke quickly, desperate to get the gunman to change his mind.

Vincent shook his head in a refusal. "I'm sorry, Cid."

"Vin! You have—" the pilot was about to begin an argument when he saw Vincent quickly turn his head away. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Wait just a goddamn minute…Are you fuckin' with me Valentine?!"

The gunman's face dipped lower behind his cloak and Cid heard a soft snort, which he suspected was suppressed laughter. In irritation, he grabbed the man's cape and yanked it down, revealing a Vincent Valentine who was trying very hard not to smile.

Cid found he couldn't return the gesture. "You sneaky sonuvabitch! You lied to me!"

Vincent actually laughed, and the pilot thought he'd entered a parallel universe. Vincent wasn't capable of smiling or laughing, or playing a joke for that matter. Who the hell was this creature sitting in front of him and what had it done with the stoic gunman?

"You should have seen your face!" Vincent continued to chuckle and Cid got scared. He'd broken Valentine, but how the hell did he fix him?

"Stop laughing, dammit. It's not funny!" Cid grumbled. "You piss me off to no fucking end sometimes, Vin."

Vincent snorted, "You're so easy!"

Cid scowled, not liking being the butt of the joke, but since it was the first joke he'd ever heard Vincent make, he let it slide, and had to wait five whole minutes for the gunman to quiet down. Once Vincent was silent again and wiping away his tears of laughter, Cid hit him with the all-important question. "Did you actually like the tea?"

Vincent smiled, trying not to laugh again. "Yes. It was actually very good, Cid. You were right."

"Damn straight. Good thing you liked it, Vin, cuz otherwise I wouldn't'a done this…" Cid grabbed Vincent by the collar and yanked him forward, kissing him firmly on the lips before letting him go and getting up.

"Got a ship to run now, so I'll see ya later, Vin." he walked to the doorway and paused, turning back around to smirk at the stunned gunman. "Just so ya know, I think yer a good-looking guy, but if you insult my tea again, I don't care how hot you are, yer getting' tossed over the side. You got me Vin?" Cid waited for a nod before walking out to go about his duties, smiling.

Sometimes Vincent pissed him off to no end…but only sometimes…


End file.
